


A One-Way Ticket

by snowpuppies



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-04
Updated: 2009-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowpuppies/pseuds/snowpuppies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faith's got a one-way ticket to hell when she joins the Fang Gang in LA, post-<i>NFA</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A One-Way Ticket

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [Dream in Color](http://dreamincolor.livejournal.com/), with special thanks to [Claw of Cat](http://clawofcat.livejournal.com/).
> 
> Banner by [selene2](http://selene2.livejournal.com/).

 

  
"…and you'll never believe what Xander was wearing! But anyways, after Angel called—"

"Wait a minute, Andrew. Angel called?"

"Yeah. Seems they were having some sort of apocalypse and he wanted to see who we could spare. As if we don't have enough going on here! But anyways, Xander said—"

"Hey kid, I gotta go."

"Awww, but I was just getting to the best part."

"Later."

With a sigh of relief, Faith shuts the phone. The little runt annoys her more than she could possibly say, but he's the most talkative thing she's ever seen and lets all sorts of secrets go when he thinks he's talking to a friend—much more than she'd get from the Queen B or any of her little minions. So she keeps track of what's going on—just out of curiosity, of course—and what's going on sounds right up her alley.

Plus, it doesn't hurt that she can help Angel out.

 

***

 

The Greyhound pulls up, right on time.

This is familiar. Same Bat time, same Bat channel, and another long-ass ride on a crappy bus.

Of course, _before_, she'd been running away, and now she's running towards...what seems like it could be the end of the world.

Look at her, playing the hero.

Maybe the world really is ending.

With a heavy sigh, she climbs up the steps.

It's not about Angel, really—although she can admit that she gives a damn…alright, a great big damn—she just needs a lot less bullshit and bureaucracy, and a lot more action.

And if she gets to kick some demon ass in the process, well, that's just icing on the cupcake.

Trudging down the aisle, she finds her spot and stuffs her backpack into the space below her chair before plopping into her seat. She leans against the window, the cool glass soothing against her pounding head, and stares into nothing.

Of course, there's also the fact that Angel's always gone out of his way to help, no matter how much she fights and claws and kicks and screams, always reading her like a goddamned book, rewriting her ending without so much as batting an eye, and, well…that means something.

Besides, unlike General B and her merry band of mini-Slayers, she knows Angel will be glad to have her at his back.

A large woman in a flowery dress settles into the seat beside her. Digging into her bag, she pulls out a set of knitting needles and a ball of yarn that looks like it was recycled from Xander's wardrobe and begins to knit.

Faith winces as the woman's elbow collides with her arm.

She barely contains a groan when the woman starts chattering about her cat and the sweater she's making for it. Glancing at the yarn once again, Faith hopes the cat has enough sense to run away from the kennel.

Sighing, she scrunches her body as close to the wall as it can get, arranging her jacket as a pillow.

She sure hopes Angel appreciates what she's going through for him.

 

***

 

Faith wakes when the bus hisses its final stop.

Groggily, she grabs her things and stumbles down the aisle.

She has one foot on the pavement when the ground, the bus, the whole damn world lurches out of synch for one second and then…

Something green and scaly and larger than the Greyhound is headed their way.

She pulls a knife from her bag, which she drops on the sidewalk as she runs towards big and ugly. She just hopes it's stupid, too.

Clenching the blade between her teeth, she jumps onto the bus so she can look the monster in the face. She gets in a few hits, but when it nearly takes her head off, she decides to change tactics.

Sliding from the bus, she darts between the creature's legs, plunging her knife into its abdomen and flinging herself to the side just in time to avoid the spray of intestines as they hit the pavement.

Adrenaline pumping, she climbs to her feet and looks around.

It's not pretty.

The creature wasn't alone; people are screaming, running and falling and damn near shitting themselves while fang-y, horny, slimy monsters are destroying L.A.

She always knew she'd end up in hell.

Just always figured on dying, first.

 

***

 

She finds the kid battling it out with a whole slew of demons. He's slim, but well-muscled, great shoulders, pretty blue eyes, and a hell of a swing.

With an axe, that is.

In a heartbeat, she joins the fray, spinning and whirling, slicing and hacking and shredding every scaly, slimy bastard she gets her hands on. No intrigues, no under-cover operations, just fighting and scratching and clawing to stay alive.

This is where Faith belongs.

She knows the odds are impossible, but a flash of blonde and a flicker of blue join the fight and eventually, the demon mob is bleeding and broken on the road.

It isn't until the fight is over that she realizes she's been back-to-back with Angel Junior.

Spike hotwires a car, and she climbs in the back with Junior while Blue rides shotgun, no arguments.

She could use a nap.

Or a good, hard fuck…and then a nap.

 

***

 

She gets a nap at least.

They'd ridden with Spike to one of those fucking huge houses from 90210 or some shit. It was half-full of survivors, half-full of nearly naked women.

And she'd always thought Spike had no class.

He'd stashed her and the kid away in the basement with the rest of the survivors; she sleeps with her back to the wall.

When she wakes, Connor is slumped against the wall beside her, blue eyes staring into nothing, far as she can tell.

"Hey." She yawns, stretching as she sits up.

"Hey." A pause. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah. Had this weird-ass dream about being in hell." She grins, glancing at him through the corner of her eye.

He snorts.

She drags her bag into her lap, pulling out the blade she'd used in the fight earlier and begins to clean it. She glances over at the boy.

He makes eye contact for a moment—"Thanks."—before blushing and turning away.

"No prob."

"What brings you to L.A.? Or what's left of it, anyways."

"Word on the street said there was a big ass-whoopin' coming down in these parts. Thought I'd come and help slash some beasties."

"You talked to Angel?"

She shrugs. "More or less."

"Look, Faith, about _before_…"

"Water under the bridge, Kid." She means it; she's different, he's different. She's ready for a fresh start.

Figures he is, too.

"Not a kid."

"Right." She thinks a minute. Kid might actually be legal now. Looking him over, she notices his t-shirt has ridden up in front; he's well muscled, and she can see the beginnings of a dark trail peeking out from his waistband. Not a kid, then.

"Guess not, huh?" she admits.

He half-smiles at her, blue eyes catching the light from the window set high in the wall, and damn, but it makes her mouth start to water. She's been making do with Joe Normal for so long, she forgot what a real man could do, and—barely legal or not—she has a feeling Connor would give as good as he got.

She turns away. Kinky as she is, she doesn’t think having it on with Angel's kid in a room full of traumatized people is on.

She goes back to cleaning her knife, acutely aware of his warmth nearby.

 

***

 

She wonders where Angel's at—she came to L.A. to help him out, after all—and wants to find him, but she knows the best thing she can do for him is to stick with Connor and keep his ass from being demon chow.

Not that he needs a babysitter—he fights like a slayer with the size and bulk of a man—but it doesn't hurt to have another fighter on hand, she figures. Besides, two swords are better than one, right?

So she tags along when Connor relocates the survivors to an abandoned house nearby.

It's not a hardship; he's as easy on the eyes as his old man, he blushes when she talks to him, and best of all, he's never met Buffy Summers.

And with the new digs, there's just enough room for some privacy.

 

***

 

She's never been good with words, so she likes the fact that he doesn't talk too much.

Makes the screwing that much easier. One minute, they're climbing the stairs to his room, the next, they're standing there, staring at each other, and they both know that they're going to fuck.

No muss, no fuss.

He's standing across the room, arousal clearly written on his face—and other places, as well—too shy to come to her. That's ok; she'll move the mountain herself.

She crosses half the distance between them, smirking when he shifts uncomfortably.

"First time?"

"No." Connor scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. The look is familiar, but there's a little hint of humor behind the brooding that Angel never had.

Fuck her, but she finds it cute.

"Second, then."

Blushing, Connor looks away.

"Don't worry about it," she says as she steps closer, intruding on his personal space. "I'm sure you'll catch up."

"Uhm, ok."

"Relax, Tiger," she breathes against his cheek as she brushes their lips together—girl's gotta tease, you know—pressing herself against his lean, hard body.

"I won't bite…unless you ask."

She hears him gulp.

"Oh, please."

And she captures his lips with her own.

He's warm and hard and wet and feels like he has more hands than an octopus. Fingers tugging on her hair, strong hand cupping her ass, hard thigh between her legs and something even harder pressing into her stomach…fuck, but she needs this.

She's pushing him back towards the bed, lips and bodies plastered together like there's no tomorrow, when suddenly he pulls away.

He stares at her for several moments, panting and wiping his mouth, before speaking.

"You…uhm, never, like changed my diapers or anything like that, right?"

"No." Faith scowls and wonders if he's all there; she's done nut-jobs before, but it's nice to know beforehand, you know?

"Good." He grins, tackling her to the bed.

 

***

 

In the morning, she wakes to a goofy grin.

It's a little scary.

But the rippling muscles of his chest deserve a good licking, so she sets forth with a will, licking and biting until he screams.

She likes it when he screams.

After breakfast, they leave the house to hunt for Angel.

She wants to see how he's doing, but she's found what she came for—helping the survivors, fighting back-to-back with someone who enjoys slaying just as much as she does, then fucking 'till the sun comes up—she's scratching both itches day and night, with some of that moral do-gooder shit to boot.

It's a sweet deal.

She always knew she'd end up in hell.

Just never knew it would be so much _fun_.

 

 

_FIN_.

 

Originally archived [here](http://snowpuppies.livejournal.com/176491.html).


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